Week 45 - L’Arche Daybreak

Davis has this joke he likes to tell about the relationship between the United States and Canada. He says it's a lot like the relationship between an older brother and his little brother. The little brother (Canada) knows everything about the older brother (USA). Who his friends and enemies are, what he does for work, who his boss at work is (president), and even all the pointless drama in his life (celebrity news). The little brother has grown up in the shadow of the older brother, and because of this, will quickly and easily find criticism in the older brother, but he also quickly and easily accepts protection from the older brother. Bullies will think twice about messing with the little brother because they know who his older brother is. On the flip side, the older brother who has already moved out of the childhood home knows next to nothing about the little brother. At family reunions, the older brother will make his best attempt (and a feeble one at that) to relate to the little brother, saying something like,

"You like hockey right?"

"Yeah"

"That's cool…"

Or

"I didn't know you decided to take French this year! How's it going?"

"Dude, I've taken four years of French. I'm in AP French, I'm literally the president of the French club."

"Okay, chill - I didn't know."

This week we paid a visit to our younger brother up North, and our ignorance of his ways showed immediately. This is not the first time we have volunteered in Canada this year, but it is the first time we brought the Bus with us. As we approached the border, I settled in knowing it might be a while. The road split ahead of us: on the left was a sign picturing a car, and on the right was a sign showing a truck. Worried that our bus might be too large for the car route, I steered us right with all the trucks. This turned out to be a mistake. The border patrol officer informed us that this was the commercial vehicle/goods entrance, and we should have known from the obvious signage. I apologized, and we were escorted to a separate building where we were told to park our bus and step inside. After a short wait, we were called into a small and plain office. Across from us and separated by thick glass were two border patrol officers, one man and one woman, who I'm sure felt very protected and important on their side of the glass. They began the inquisition of who we were, why we were there, and what we planned to do. As our story unfolded, each officer's line of questioning began to reveal their thoughts and feelings towards us. The male officer did not trust us. His questions were very investigative - as if he was trying to catch us in a lie.

"Why are you traveling to Canada?"

"To volunteer."

"You'll have to be a little more specific than that."

Josh chimed in, "We are going to L'Arche Daybreak. It's a community for adults with special needs outside of Toronto."

The officer began looking it up on his computer, "la what? Can you spell it, please?"

"L - hyphen - A - R - C - H - E."

"What is that, French?"

"Yeah, I guess so…"

"And what specifically will you be doing there?"

"They mentioned pruning, but we don't have any more details than that. Really, anything they need us to do." (He did not like the ambiguity of this answer)

"Who mentioned pruning?"

"Gord."

"And what is Gord's job title at L'Arche?"

"Oh, I'm not sure, but I can see if it was mentioned in the email..." "... It says he is the property manager."

The officer then referenced his computer, appearing to double-check that our facts lined up with whatever was on his screen, and gave a grunt of approval. Since then, I have scoured L'Arche Daybreak's website and have found no information about Gord or his job title for the public to see, but in the moment, the officer did a very fine job maintaining the pretense of his authority in the situation.

Next to him was the woman officer whose line of questioning revealed a genuine curiosity and perhaps motherly concern for us. Grasping the idea of our motive, she asked,

"So you guys just travel around and help people? Asking for nothing in return?"

"That's right."

"What makes you want to do this?"

Now there is a question that could have opened many doors of conversation: spirituality, the deep-seated desire in most Americans - and perhaps most people - to go, see, and explore the world around us, the knowledge that there is only a short window in life that we can do this and so we must, or else we'll live in regret for the rest of our days. I wanted to throw the question back at her and simply ask, "Wouldn't you?" But it didn't seem like the scene for philosophical conversation. So, in the end, we only gave her a brief history of the LOST Bus, our connection to it, and the desire to continue the legacy.

She then asked, "When was the last time you were back home?"

"October of last year."

Upon hearing this, a sorrowful look of concern came across her face. Perhaps she is just a homebody, but instinct led me to believe she is a mother imagining her own children leaving home for a year. If that's true, I hope her children visit and call her often.

Soon the inquisition was over, and we were free to enter Canada. In total, it only took about an hour to cross, which really wasn't so bad, but if the "Little brother" made that big a fuss about crossing the border, then the "Big brother" must be a nightmare. I mentally prepared myself for the hassle that reentry to the U.S. was sure to be.

We went to Toronto, but this is the only photo we took…

Before we would have to worry about that, though, we had the privilege of serving at L'Arche Daybreak. We first heard about L'Arche because of author Henri Nouwen - particularly in his books "Adam" and "Life of the Beloved". Often Nouwen refers to L'Arche fondly in his writings as being a place where he sees God's imprint on our world most clearly. In an interview with Ligurian magazine in 1992, Nouwen states,

"L'Arche is not a service institution or a group home. It is a community that exists to reveal God's love. Our people are given to the world to tell others about peace and forgiveness and celebration, to make them aware that in the midst of their brokenness, there is joy; in the midst of their wounded nature, there is healing."

We experienced a taste of this truth that Henri Nouwen describes back in December when we volunteered at Cornerstone Ranch, a similar community for adults with special needs. Eager for another taste and aware of L'Arche's existence thanks to Henri Nouwen, we reached out to them, asking if there was anything we could do to serve their community. Luckily for us, Gord, the previously mentioned property manager, always remains busy and happily accepts any help. "Pruning" technically speaking was not an incorrect description of our task, but it could be misleading. Our task was to clear encroaching vegetation from a lovely boardwalk around a pond so the path would be more accessible and enjoyable. The selected portion of the vegetation which we chose to "prune" was usually the entire plant - be it a tree or a vine, and by the end of the first day, we had a respectable pile of debris piled up.

Beginning / during

After

The pile was 4x as big as this dumpster, but we are very good at Tetris so we fit it all in

At our side through it all was Gord and Tomek. In addition to being incredibly hard workers, both Gord and Tomic were easy company and fantastic ambassadors and tour guides for L'Arche. They took us around to all the different buildings on the property, explaining their functions and introducing us to those involved with each facility. Tomic has been with L'Arche Daybreak for nearly 30 years and has a wealth of knowledge and history. One amazing thing about L'Arche that Gord and Tomek were very proud of is the diversity. Gord is a first-generation Canadian with both of his parents migrating from Holland - extremely deep roots compared to nearly everyone else at L'Arche. Tomic is Polish, but since he has been in Canada for almost 30 years, he gets second place for being the most Canadian. Others that I had the pleasure of meeting during our stay were from every corner of the world: Iran, Korea, Morocco, Colombia, China, Egypt, Japan, and that's just to name a few. The beautiful melting pot of culture at L'Arche is something I wish I could bring with me wherever I go in life.

Break time with Tomek and Gord

Another thing I wish I could bring with me wherever I go is the evident joy that permeates throughout L'Arche. In no time at all, anyone can clearly see that the source of the joy here is the "Core Members" (the residents of L'Arche with special needs). Tomek tells us, "If it wasn't for the core members, we would fall apart in two months - they hold it all together." Despite our short stay, we felt loved and welcomed here - like we had been here much longer. This is a testament to Gord and Tomek, but mostly to the core members.

Davis giving a bus tour

Our short stay at L'Arche was, in large part, due to the sheer distance we had to drive this week. Leaving from Holland, Michigan, on Monday, we had to be in Boston to pick up our good friend Sam Jones late Friday night, and then push north deep into Maine on Saturday (a journey of over 1,200 miles). With all this time on the road, there is plenty of time to read, sleep, or write (this may explain why this blog is so long... If you found the time to read it, I applaud you and thank you - I enjoyed writing it!). There is also ample time for your mind to go into periods of uninhibited wandering - something we rarely experience in the modern world of technology and information at our fingertips. Daydreaming seems to me to have become a lost art in the past decade, and I can speak critically in this area because in my time on the bus, I have become a self-proclaimed expert in the field. I have built entire homes in my head that will never materialize as plans - much less mortar. I have planned trips that will never happen, surfed and skied in conditions that will never exist, and lived out entire timelines of my life altered by where I live, what I do, and who I marry - each alternate future almost certainly nowhere close to what my actual future holds. But I understand why we fill our days and minds full of anything to distract from daydreaming, for a mind left to wander can also be a scary thing. It can shake a man to his core, leaving him questioning his reality, pondering every truth he has ever believed, or reliving all his regrets.

I had one of these scary fits of uninhibited wandering of the mind when I pondered if this trip has left me numb to surprise and therefore excitement. Throughout this journey, I have seen the natural wonders of North America in their grandeur and immensity. I have met the most amazing people with unbelievable work ethic and passion striving to make their communities a better place, and I have seen the brokenness of our world in finite detail and in more ways than I ever knew. As each week approaches, I enter without expectations of any kind, which is good, but that combined with all that I have seen up to this point has left me in a state where nothing is surprising, and when nothing is surprising, there seems to be a lot less that is exciting.

With my condition identified, I began to weigh out the pros and cons. Perhaps this lack of surprise means it's harder to ruffle my feathers, and when life throws its punches, I can adapt and adjust with ease - a trait that will surely help as I proceed in life, start a career, and a family. But as I pictured this life numb to surprise, I quickly realized it's void of excitement, bland, and gray. Where is the energy? The color? That's the life I want, one of boyish awe and excitement, one of discovery, and learning, and feeling.

I then began to think and hope that perhaps this condition is the result of my current lifestyle on the bus and once I return to a world of schedule and routine, growing used to how things should go week to week, I will begin to be surprised again. But what if that never happens? What if this is just part of growing up? Maybe lots of men's "coming of age" narrative is mirrored by a "loss of innocence" one, and this is just the beginning of me "becoming a man"? A man who is never surprised or excited, living a life void of color and lacking joy. If this is what becoming a man means, I resent it with all my being - and yet I accept my fate.

Ohh, how cruel the unchecked mind free to wander can be. There I was silently mourning the death of my boyhood, the life of color, and excitement, and joy that I was slowly but inevitably leaving behind when suddenly Josh interrupted the memorial service I was having in my mind and told me to look out the window.

Across the way in all its thundering magnitude and splendor lay Niagara Falls. Davis had taken us a slightly longer route to the US border without letting us know the plan just to make sure we would see it. And sure I have seen pictures and videos, heck I even saw Pam and Jim from "The Office" get married there, but nothing could have prepared me for the sheer power and magnitude of this phenomenon. Water rushes down with such force that the resulting spray and mist is launched and presumably carried by displaced air well above the 180' start of the falls - I don't even know how this is possible.

Pictures could never do it justice, but still

With my jaw dropped, I gawked at the scene all the way across Rainbow International Bridge, then suddenly we were at their border handing our passports over to U.S. Customs - the infamous and feared "Big Brother." If crossing into Canada took an hour, I was fully prepared for this to take two. The patrol officer walked around the bus and stood in the threshold, peering into our home.

He said, "Nice bus, what do you use it for?"

"We travel around and do volunteer work."

He didn't even blink, completely untroubled by our story; he simply moved on.

"You got a license plate?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, let me go around back to get the number, then you're good to go."

I couldn't believe it. We were through in less than a minute! This left me more awestruck than even Niagara Falls. Suddenly I was filled with immense pride and love for our country. I realize that this may be a unique reaction to witnessing extremely lax border patrol, but it's only the truth of what I felt. This is America! Where three guys trying to do some good in different communities aren't questioned with disbelief or even confusion - hell, the way our border officer was so unfazed you would think it was expected of us - and as it should be!

This is the land of the free, the land of dreams, the land where I can love my neighbor - no matter where they come from or what they look like - and nobody has the authority to stop me. Chest puffed up, bursting with pride for my country, we rolled into Buffalo singing and dancing. It was at this point I realized I was just surprised, and as a result excited, twice in rapid succession! Who would have thought that Niagara Falls and the United States Border patrol would take credit for resurrecting my boyhood from the grave? Re-establishing the disorder that makes surprise and excitement and joy possible.

Kelly and company in Boston

Tucker in Maine